I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas
by Hawki
Summary: Segaverse Oneshot: Knuckles was dreaming of a white Christmas. Also that the Resistance could somehow defeat the Eggman Empire, but y'know, baby steps.


**I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas**

Knuckles had never been to Christmas Island before.

Not that unusual – there were many islands that he hadn't been to before. There were hundreds of such places in the world, and he couldn't be expected to visit every one of them. Not when most of his time was spent on one particular island, and when taking time to hunt for treasure, he'd soon learnt that islands rarely had the same riches that continents did. When he thought of ziggurats, of pyramids, of tombs and catacombs, those thoughts rarely coincided with tropical paradises.

But Christmas Island was different. _He _was different. Different because instead of being a guardian or a treasure hunter, he was leading the last bastion of freedom on this planet – a group called the Resistance, that was steadily losing its ability to "resist" in any shape or form. And Christmas Island was different because it was Sonic's home, or rather, had been his home. And while that in of itself wasn't unusual (everyone had a home after all), he'd noticed something when talking about points of origin with his friends, back before the world had been screwed up more than usual. Tails had never made any secret that his home was Westside Island. Sonic had always claimed that South Island was his home – it was only mentioned in passing by Amy that Sonic had actually come from Christmas Island, and that as far as she knew, he was the only one who did.

He'd thanked her and left for the island immediately. The main reason was to get what recruits he had for the Resistance – South Island was a battlefield, and it shouldn't take much to convince the people here to fight, lest their home meet the same fate. The unofficial reason was that if this was the end of all things, if the Resistance was fated to be defeated, he could at least see Sonic's home before that happened. One final game of one-upmanship before the game called life came to an end. But standing here, on a grassy cliff overlooking the sea, walking out from the dropship he'd come in…

_Huh._

He was perturbed.

_This is different._

##

Walking across the edge of the island, he'd had little reason to change that assessment.

There was something off about this place, he reflected. So many islands, so many places, period, had a rhyme and rhythm to them. 360 loops. Floating building blocks. Springs of both red and yellow, tempting one to soar through the air. At times, Knuckles had thought that at some point, a civilization must have covered much of the world, one predating even the Knuckles Clan. It would explain the common obsession in architecture that so much of the world's untamed spaces displayed, including Angel Island itself. As time had permitted, he'd gone through the writings and glyphs of his ancestors, but to no avail – the Knuckles Clan had taken note of the past, sure, but their main focus had been on the present. Fighting for the spoils of war. Fighting for survival. Fighting for the sake of fighting. They'd kept their eyes on the present, and not taken note of the horrible future that had awaited them until it was too late. Their homeland had become a floating island, and they were doomed to wallow in the shadow of greater civilizations than the one they had been reduced to.

But Christmas Island was different. No loops. No floating blocks. No springs. And walking through what little forest cover there was, Knuckles realized that he couldn't hear anything either. No bird songs. No insects. Christmas Island didn't just appear like a place out of sync with the world, it looked like a place that was dead. _Felt _like a place that was dead. Not like the industrial wastelands Eggman had created, the wastelands he could now construct unabated, but still…dead. So far, the only signs of any civilization he'd seen were a group of heads staring out into sea, each of them representing a different animal. They'd looked nice, sure, but he hadn't quite got the point of them. Not that art needed a point per se, but…

_You grew up here, _Knuckles reflected, as his walking turned into a jog. _How the heck did you get to be the way you were? _He took a breath. _Are._

Were. Are. He tried not to think about that. Sonic was gone. Tails was missing. Few years ago he wouldn't have given those things a second thought, but in the last few months…well, he'd done his duty. Done it so well that he'd fought against the very people who'd come to help him, and nearly doomed the world in the process. Failure, and forgiveness for failure, tended to give an echidna perspective if given enough time. Now, loathe as he was to admit it, he missed them. Missed the fun. Missed the adventure. He even missed Sonic going on about "the real power of teamwork," because at least the world at that time had been one where "the real power of teamwork" could carry the day. Not one where teamwork didn't really amount to much against overwhelming numbers.

Thinking of the Resistance, thinking of what those overwhelming numbers meant for them…he was starting to consider heading back. There wasn't anyone here on this island. And so far, it hadn't given him any hint as to why it was called "Christmas Island" either. When he thought of Christmas (one of several strange surface traditions), he thought of snow, reindeer, and donkeys – something about the reindeer being the saviour of all donkeys, or donkeys carrying the mother of a reindeer, or…something. He didn't know. These days, he barely cared either. In fact, he was ready to call it quits and head back to the real world right now, if not for…

_Huh._

That.

_Civilization._

"That," as it turned out, was a small village situated down on the beach, near a less steep incline that led up to the cliffs. Not the easiest hike, but doable. Of course, in his case, he could just glide down to the village (which he did), and he could easily climb up any cliff face there was.

"Hello?" Knuckles called out, after landing on the sand. "Anyone here?"

There was no answer. And come to think of it, even "village" felt a bit too generous a term right now. There were wooden buildings surrounded by wooden spikes. But it was small. Dilapidated. A settlement on the edge of the world, that wanted to hide from it.

"Anyone?" Knuckles called out.

He walked past the gap in the wall into the village itself. Bark and grass had been spread around, so while not exactly a road, it did make it easier to walk across. Enough for him to hear his own footsteps. Enough for him to stop, strain his ears, and hear the sound of another set.

_Guess someone is here._

He clutched his fists and got ready to fight. He doubted he'd needed to, but he'd had these instincts even before Eggman (or Robotnik as he'd then been known) had turned up on his island. As guardian of the Master Emerald, in a fight or flight scenario, flight had never been an option. And one pearl of wisdom the guardians had passed down to him was that it was always better to be ready to fight and not have to, rather than have to and not be ready.

"Who goes there?"

He unclenched his fists – it looked like he wouldn't be fighting today. For what he saw approaching him was an old donkey. One walking on two legs with a cane in hand.

"Knuckles," the guardian said, extending a hand. "Knuckles the Echidna."

The donkey snorted. "I know what you are."

Knuckles blinked. "You knew I was a guardian?"

"No. I know you're an echidna." He prodded Knuckles with his stick as if to emphasize the point. "So many people your age do that now. Name the Animal. Peh. So insecure."

"I don't think-"

"I mean, if you were a hedgehog, and said your name was, oh, I dunno, Maurice the Hedgehog, and there was another hedgehog, wouldn't that make Maurice a bit big-headed?"

"Dunno."

"You don't know?"

"No," Knuckles said, frowning. "I wouldn't know, because there's no other echidnas in the world."

The donkey looked at him. Meeting his brown eyes, surrounded by wrinkles, Knuckles saw something in them. A…change, he supposed. A softening. Something approaching sympathy, but held back by something else. Wariness, cynicism…something along those lines. Either way, he stretched out a hand.

"Benjamin," he said.

"Benjamin the Donkey?"

"No. Just Benjamin. I may be one of the last donkeys on this island, but I'm sure there's other donkeys in the world."

"I guess," Knuckles said.

"Well, do keep searching. Because you won't find them on this island." He turned around and went to hobble off.

"What about non-donkeys?" Knuckles asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"You don't even know?"

Benjamin didn't say anything. He just kept shuffling.

"Hey!" Knuckles glided through the air and landed in front of Benjamin. Even being a head taller than Knuckles, he wasn't going to be intimidated by an old timer.

"Why are you here, Knuckles?" Benjamin asked.

"I'm here…" He cleared his throat. "I'm here on behalf of the Resistance. I'm here to gather recruits to help us in our fight-"

"Not interested," Benjamin said. He shooed Knuckles out of the way with his stick and kept walking.

"Are you that afraid?" Knuckles called out.

"No. Just wise."

"What?"

Benjamin sighed and looked back at the guardian. "I'm a donkey, echidna. Donkeys live a long time. No-one has ever seen a dead donkey."

"What?" Knuckles blurted out.

"Whatever you're resisting, whatever you're fighting, there'll be another battle after it. And one after that, and one after that."

"Not if we lose this one," Knuckles said.

"Many have said those words. Many even believed them."

"And none of those people were Doctor Eggman."

"And he, I assume, is none of the people who have come before, and is none of the people who will come after." He cast his arms around the village. "Look around you guardian. Entropy and decay are the true destroyers of worlds."

And with that, he shuffled off, leaving Knuckles alone.

##

Knuckles, for his part, ended up following Benjamin into his hut. It had cushions, it had carpets, it had tea. The only thing missing was reindeer, and anything resembling Christmas.

"Why's this island called Christmas Island anyway?"

"A name given by outsiders to the island."

"And the original name?"

"None can say," Benjamin said, as he took the tea Knuckles had brewed for him. "But it matters not. Things that are named will endure long after the name is forgotten."

"I looked at the village," Knuckles said. "Doesn't seem to be enduring."

Benjamin sipped the tea. "This island has been ravaged by those of the outside, but destruction came from within."

Knuckles didn't say anything as he sipped his own tea. Over time, he'd come to learn the history of his people. Self-destruction had factored into their end as much as Chaos had.

"Some of the people are still here," Benjamin said. "Those who survived the end. Those who lived after their ancestors constructed those heads on the shore, thinking the gods would save them as their world was collapsing."

"When was this?" Knuckles asked.

"Hundreds of years. A thousand, maybe." Benjamin chuckled. "I feel I mistook you, echidna. I feared your mind was as small as the ants you eat."

"And now?" Knuckles murmured, not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not.

"Now you remind me of a hedgehog who insisted he was _the _hedgehog. The one who could run as fast as the wind that buffets this island."

_Sonic?_

"The one who would never stop asking what lay beyond the horizon. The one who, one day, took off in a plane and flew off."

Knuckles frowned, torn. He wanted to know more. Wanted to know everything. But Sonic was gone. Benjamin was looking tired. And he was here to recruit the living, not the dead.

"Good times," Benjamin said.

"And times aren't good now?"

"I'm all that is left of this village. You'd find maybe two dozen others on this island. All waiting for the end. All…"

"Already dead?" Knuckles asked.

"One could say that."

Knuckles frowned, thinking of when he'd first arrived on the island. The silence. The emptiness. The sense of being in a place out of sync with the rest of the world.

"Why are you here, Knuckles?" Benjamin asked.

"I told you – to find recruits for the Resistance."

"And yet you're here, in a place where so few would be available."

"I'm here…" Knuckles took a breath. "I'm here because so few free places are left."

"So we're your last resort," Benjamin smirked.

"I didn't mean to say-"

"Oh but we are, good echidna. I do not hide that." He sipped his tea again. "Well, good luck to you. You may find others. They may even join you. But I shan't be among them."

"Why?"

"Because in the end, I have grown used to entropy and decay. And having lived longer than anyone else, I can say that fighting will change nothing."

"As someone doing the fighting, I beg to differ."

"And that is your right. But reach ten times ten years, and tell me then what has changed?"

"In the scope of a few months, I know exactly what's changed," Knuckles said.

"And what has?"

"What's changed…is like this island. A man who takes and takes and takes, until grasslands become desert, and seas become dead. Only he builds statues to glorify himself rather than to gods."

"Perhaps the gods are watching."

"Perhaps. But I've faced gods, and trust me, not only can they be defeated, but they don't deserve any worship."

"And I never said they did."

"And also…" Knuckles trailed off, choosing his words carefully. "I guess I'm dreaming of a white Christmas. One where the snow isn't black from Eggman's factories."

"We're in the south seas near the equator," Benjamin said. "Snow will never fall here."

Knuckles frowned. "That wasn't my point."

"But I have made mine." Benjamin finished the tea and slowly got to his feet. "Now I bid you farewell and good day."

"But-"

"I have said my piece, you have said yours. I cannot ask you to leave this island. But I can ask you to leave my home."

Knuckles said nothing. He was just remembering a time when he'd ordered two trespassers to leave. How those two had stayed on his island. How they'd saved everything. How they'd saved him. In fact, still thinking of them as he reached the door, he paused, and looked back at Benjamin again.

"That hedgehog," Knuckles asked. "Did you ever hear from him?"

"No," Benjamin said. "He left, and never came back." He let out a chuckle. "Well, that was Sonic alright. Always looking forward. Never looking back."

"Yeah," Knuckles murmured. "Sounds about right."

"What?"

"Nothing," Knuckles whispered as he headed back out into the sun, setting on a dying world. "Nothing at all."

* * *

_A/N_

_So, I actually kind of goofed up when writing this, as in, for some reason, I equated the history of Easter Island to Christmas Island. Still, I figure that the Earth of the games not being our Earth, liabilities, including anthropomorphic animals, are allowed. If anything, it's more a case of "take obscure piece of STH lore and make a oneshot based around it." Which is kind of par for the course for me in oneshots, but, meh._


End file.
